


One More Day

by NamelesslyNightlock



Series: Going Down Swinging [76]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Asgardian Tony Stark, Declarations Of Love, Desperation, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Fear, Feels, Fluff, Fluffy Ending, Gift Giving, Happy Ending, Hopeful Ending, Idiots in Love, Insecure Loki (Marvel), Insecurity, Kissing, Loki (Marvel) Feels, Loki (Marvel) Needs a Hug, Loki Gets a Hug (Marvel), M/M, Misunderstandings, POV Alternating, Pain, Rumors, Self-Doubt, Self-Worth Issues, Talking, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Understanding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-18
Updated: 2020-09-18
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:54:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26525533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NamelesslyNightlock/pseuds/NamelesslyNightlock
Summary: Loki knows that Anthony is going to leave him. It’s only a matter of time.
Relationships: Loki/Tony Stark
Series: Going Down Swinging [76]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1330490
Comments: 50
Kudos: 517





	One More Day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [STARSdidathing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/STARSdidathing/gifts).



> Of course this one was prompted by Stars. It's painful, where else would it have come from ~~(Thank you!)~~  
>   
>  (It does have a happy ending though, I promise ❤︎)  
>   
>  **Prompt** — _“I wouldn’t change a thing about you.”_

—🗡—

Loki had always known that he did not deserve Anthony Howardson. Anthony was charming and cheerful and intelligent, much loved and often stopped in the halls by people wishing to ask questions about his work or just to engage in an animated discussion. Everybody admired him, everybody wished to be his friend. Anthony could have anyone he wanted– and yet, for some reason, Anthony had chosen to be with Loki.

Loki was just the second prince, disliked by most and mistrusted by all, living in the shadow of his older brother and looked down upon for his tricks. So of course he knew he wasn’t good enough, but he could hold on to the fact that despite everything that everyone else believed, Anthony had _chosen him._

It was that thought, that perfect fact which got him through the day. It was what he held on to when he heard the whispers in the halls, the hissed rumours, the disparaging looks. And never did he let such a comment uttered in his presence go unanswered– he always made sure to respond with a scathing remark, shooting down anyone who suggested that Anthony should move on to better prospects. 

He made sure they didn’t see how much their words affected him, how each one felt like a physical weight that pressed down on his shoulders, bowing his back and making every day just a little bit harder.

Maybe it shouldn’t have bothered him.

But Loki heard the snickers when he trailed behind Anthony like a gosling, holding on to his every word and touching whenever he could– and while it wasn’t enough to stop him, it was certainly enough to open his eyes to what he was doing. After all, by Aesir standards, his relationship with Anthony was relatively new. It had been mere years since their first kiss, so they were still in the throes of new love, still feeling each other out and learning all the ways they fit together. But they had been friends for centuries before that, and Loki had learned to trust in Anthony’s care for him. At least, he had learned enough to try.

Loki had always felt a little awed by Anthony, but Anthony always made sure that Loki felt involved in whatever he was doing, including Loki in every conversation, dancing with him even when all the other courtiers were vying for his attention, making sure that Loki would never fall by the wayside.

When they were together, it was perfect.

Apart, and the shadows started their slow decent.

The words ate at him like a sickness, rotting his good thoughts and darkening his mood whenever Anthony’s warmth wasn’t there to push it away.

“I don’t understand it.”

“Why is _he_ with Loki?”

“What could the prince give him that no one else can?”

_The prince._

To most Asgardians, Loki was nothing, nothing compared to Thor or even any of Thor’s friends. Loki would never be king, you see, not so long as his brother lived, and to a society such as Asgard his title meant _nothing_ when Thor would be holding all the power. Even Frigga, as respected as she was, held no more power than one of the courtiers while her husband ruled over all.

Rooms in the palace and the promise of wealth was nothing special when it would mean being tied to the _Trickster,_ the _Lie-Smith,_ to _Loki_ _Silvertongue_ who had never been known to utter a kind word or complete an honourable act. To _every other Aesir_ , he was as undesirable as a dwarf—

“It’s only a matter of time.”

Loki’s steps paused, and he turned to shoot his customary glare at the two courtiers who had been having the conversation. But despite the way they hurried along, he felt that his glare fell short.

Perhaps it was just one comment too many—

Or perhaps it was the fact that this one was _true_. This one, Loki could not dispute.

It _was_ only a matter of time before Anthony realised what the rest of the Realm already knew, before he saw that he could do so much better.

And Loki’s steps faltered, because… because how could he continue, when his heart felt like it was about to fracture in his chest?

_It’s only a matter of time._

What had they seen, for them to _say_ such a thing? Had Anthony said something? _Done_ something? Or was it just his demeanour? Did he just seem like he was growing bored, weary, losing interest in being the centre of Loki’s entire world?

 _A matter of time_.

Head bowed and feet quick, Loki hurried back to his quarters, not willing to let anyone see him fall to pieces. He curled up on his bed, under the covers, his limbs trembling, because—

Anthony was going to leave him.

In a day, a week, a year– it didn’t _matter_ , because just the thought of that waiting on the horizon was enough to have Loki’s breath hitching, catching in his throat, making him feel like he couldn’t get any air at all. The pressing, suffocating countdown that Loki hadn’t even known had been hovering over his head was almost more than he could bear, and he hugged his pillows to his chest and tried his hardest not to scream.

He knew he had no hope, that there was no chance of extending his time with Anthony to encompass their forever, and the crushing weight of loss was well and truly pressing over him when he forced his hands to curl into fists and tried to direct his pain toward desperate _determination._

Yes, he had no hope– but he had spent his whole life battling the odds, and sitting by and letting the bad just _happen_ without a fight would only be giving in.

He had to at least _try_.

If he could earn one more day, _just one more day_ with Anthony, then…

Well.

Then that would be worth everything.

—🔧—

Anthony’s lover wasn’t the sort of person who gave gifts. Anthony knew that. He knew it, and he didn’t mind– because every time he saw Loki, the prince’s whole expression would light up like Anthony was the brightest part of his day, and that brought Anthony more joy than any trinket or gift ever could.

On the other hand, Anthony _did_ like to give gifts. He liked to forge daggers with his lover’s hands in mind, crafting them to his most favoured shape and weight and moulding the grip to fit perfectly into the hold that he knew just as well as his own. He liked to make Loki silver and gold gorgets to fit both formal and casual occasions so that he could stand more proudly decorated than any other, and he made armour of the finest quality to help keep Loki safe.

He enjoyed making things for Loki not because he felt like he had to, but because he loved the way Loki would kiss him afterward, soft and sweet and tender, a perfect press of lips that might lead to something more but held perfection in just the soft touch alone.

He liked giving Loki gifts because he _loved_ him, and it had been one of the avenues of expressing affection that he found the most meaningful since he had been a child. And Loki showed his love in other ways, in soft touches and gentle smiles that he only ever bestowed on _Anthony_ , that no one else ever had the joy to see.

It was just… it just _worked_ , and Anthony would have changed nothing about it.

So when Loki appeared in his workshop one morning with a soft smile and a book he had taken from the Royal Collection, Anthony was… confused, to say the least. Loki had taken Anthony to the library in the palace on multiple occasions, but he had not _gifted_ any of the books to him before. There was no need, when Anthony had access to them anyway.

“I know this is your favourite,” Loki told him, handing him the book almost cautiously, like he was afraid Anthony wouldn’t accept it.

And Loki was right of course, he knew Anthony well and had chosen a book on the crafting of blades that Anthony had perused far too many times to count. It was strange that Loki was _giving_ it to him, but Anthony took it and held it close to his chest nonetheless, offering Loki a smile that displayed all of his affection.

“Thank you,” he said, shifting the book into just one hand so that he could cup Loki’s cheek.

Loki’s breath escaped him in a long sigh, and he stared down at Anthony with the kind of adoration that always sent his heart aflutter. And it was such a relief to see Loki finally smiling again that Anthony pressed up on his toes and caught his lips in a sweet kiss. Loki responded eagerly, _desperately_ , pulling Anthony toward him and curling around his body in a manner that was almost possessive. Anthony didn’t mind, melting in Loki’s hold, falling into his embrace just like he always did. The book was gracelessly put on a workbench so Anthony’s hands could tangle in Loki’s hair and rake down his back. They kissed like it was their last chance, and Anthony revelled in the passion and the _feeling._

It was only when Loki began to tremble that Anthony realised something wasn’t entirely quite right.

Anthony pulled away first, breaking their kiss to look up at Loki with concern. But before he could ask—

“I love you,” Loki said, holding Anthony’s gaze with a strange kind of… nervousness in his eye. “More than anything.”

“I know,” Anthony replied, leaning up to touch his lips to Loki’s jaw. “I love you, too.”

And then Loki was burying his face in the curve of Anthony’s neck with a soft _whimper._ Anthony held him close, stroking his hair, worried and _confused_ and just wanting to understand.

“Loki?” Anthony asked gently. “Is everything all right?”

“Yes,” Loki breathed, lifting his head and offering Anthony a smile. “Today, everything is _perfect_.”

Anthony matched his smile, _relieved_ —

Because Loki didn’t seem upset, but Anthony knew his lover. He knew that something had been wrong, and that whatever it was, it had been causing Loki hurt– and that was something by which Anthony could never abide. But he found that he was afraid to ask what it was, because Loki was happy _now,_ and Anthony was loath to take away that bright smile.

So he kissed Loki again instead, hoping that he could feel how much Anthony cared through the simple touch of his lips.

But if Anthony knew one thing, it was that whatever had been ailing Loki had not entirely been dealt with– and that Anthony would not rest until he had worked out how to make everything better so that Loki’s smile could stay for good.

—🗡—

Every time Anthony accepted Loki’s love, every time they kissed, every _day_ that Loki received a promise that he could see Anthony on the next was a breath of fresh air, a moment of relief until it was snatched away by the next morning’s anxiety.

_What if today is the day that he realises how unlikable I am?_

_What if today is the day he sees someone who deserves his love?_

_What if today is the_ last _day?_

But after every gift, every touch, every kiss, and every kind word Anthony simply pressed against Loki with a smile and told him that he loved him, and Loki could breathe easy for one more day. It was a horrible, painful cycle that could only be broken if one of them tore themselves from it, but Loki knew he would never be able to stop.

It was hard, and it _hurt_ , but the thought of losing Anthony would always be worse.

So he plucked his courage and thought of a new gift, a new outing, a new way to _prove_ that he could provide anything that Anthony could possibly want.

_What could the prince give him that no one else can?_

Everything. _Anything_. Loki would give Anthony whatever he could think to ask for, and everything else if it meant that they could stay together.

_One more day._

In his desperation his attempts became more elaborate, more _desperate_. He brought Anthony the finest sweets from the palace kitchens, he crafted gifts with his own seiðr that he hoped Anthony would enjoy. He took Anthony to places of beauty and science, and he led him through the hidden pathways of Yggdrasil, teaching him secrets and sharing _everything_ that he was.

They went to Niðavellir to see the dwarves forging wonders, they went to Alfheim to see the joys of the elves. And when they came across an elvish couple engaging in a courtship ritual, Loki had to look away as a stab of agony jarred through his heart.

But he held on to his pain. He hid the fear.

_Please. Just one more day._

His attempts, of course, were a double-edged blade, and that was something that weighed heavily on his mind and sat horribly in his throat, a cloying, awful paradox that he couldn’t escape any more than the cycle he was caught in.

Because by spending so much time with Anthony there was a chance that Anthony would tire of his presence all the sooner– but if things were to come to an end, Loki could not bring himself to spend even a single waking moment away from Anthony’s side.

And yet…

Anthony had already begun to withdraw. Loki could see it in his eyes, in the way his touches were laced with hesitation, in the way that he pulled back from Loki’s kisses a little earlier to simply press against Loki instead. Oh, he still held him, still whispered _I love you_ against Loki’s skin, but it had almost started to feel _strained_.

There were a few moments where Anthony would frown and stroke Loki’s cheek, his eyes burning with worry and concern and _pain_. He would always go to say something in those moments and Loki would panic, afraid that this would be it, and he would divert him with the press their lips and the pull of their bodies, holding on and whispering promises of love and _forever_. But after a while, when Loki quietened Anthony’s questions with intimacy, Anthony only began to look sad.

And as time passed and things only grew worse, Loki began to beg.

Not to Anthony, but in the confines of his room, his eyes closed tight and a prayer on his lips. He didn’t know to whom he prayed– anyone who was willing to listen, he supposed, a distressed plea in broken tones, though he knew it would not help.

 _Please,_ he whispered, the words aching in the mess of his mind. _Please. One more day_.

Anthony always seemed so distracted, and his brows so often pulled into a frown when Loki suggested a new activity or handed him a new gift. He was growing more and more distant, and every day, Loki’s heart broke a little more. But he held on because he had to, because Anthony was _still his_ , even if it wasn’t what it used to be. He was desperate enough to take every last moment that he could, despite the way that it ate at his soul.

But then, one night, Loki lay alone in his too-large bed and he realised that he had nothing left to gift. He had promised himself that he would give Anthony everything, but there was nothing left, nothing that could beat his previous attempts without being something that he knew Anthony wouldn’t accept.

He had nothing else to offer, nothing else to give. He had reached his final stand, he had pushed his time to the edge of his limits– and he knew, oh he _knew_ that he couldn’t bear to see the end.

But he didn’t have a choice. Because he didn’t have anything left. And so, with a bowed head, a shattered heart, and a last, final hope, Loki closed his eyes and allowed his seiðr to take him to face his love.

—🔧—

Anthony was scared.

He didn’t know why but he knew that Loki was _hurting_ and he knew that there was nothing he could do to help. He’d tried all that he could– he had held Loki close and told him that he was loved over and over, had promised to listen and tried to kiss all his fears away. He had accepted every gift and gone on every outing, still feeling odd by the sudden change and the anxious, frenzied manner in which Loki greeted him every morning.

Loki generally calmed by the end of the day, but as they said their goodnights – whether that be as they parted for the day or as they curled together to sleep – Loki always looked sad, like he was accepting the end of something he knew he would miss.

Every time he tried to ask what was wrong, Loki would cut him off with a searing kiss and – well, Anthony didn’t necessarily mind that, save that it meant they were never able to _talk_ – and every time Loki pulled him close, Anthony only felt like his lover was drifting further away.

So yeah, Anthony was _scared._ Because even though they were spending so much time together it felt like Loki was slipping through his fingers, like he was beginning to fade away and there was _nothing_ Anthony could do about it.

It was the fear that had him pacing the length of his forge, his hands tugging at his hair and his chest burning with something he didn’t want to put a name to.

The day before, he and Loki had travelled all the way to Niðavellir, using one of Loki’s secret pathways to watch the greatest smiths in the Nine work their incredible craft. Tony had hardly been able to concentrate on the workmanship, though, because he was so caught up in Loki, in the desperate way that Loki was clutching his hand, in the carefully arranged expression that didn’t quite hide the maelstrom that was brewing underneath.

A noise in the corner of the room drew Tony’s attention from his swirling thoughts, and he glanced up to find Loki watching him with a pained expression. His arms were crossed over his chest, but not in a way that looked angry– it seemed as if Loki were trying to hold himself together to keep from falling apart.

“Loki?” Anthony asked, stepping toward him slowly, cautiously. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know what else I can do,” Loki whispered, not quite catching Anthony’s gaze, his eyes skittering and flicking back and forth. “I… I need you to tell me.”

Anthony frowned, not understanding– and at his frown, Loki’s composure _broke_.

“Anthony,” he said, moving forward and staring at Anthony with wide eyes that somehow shone with both anguish and a hint of hope. “I know that I am not enough, the way that I am.”

It was horrible to hear because Loki was more than enough, Loki was _perfect_ —

“But if you tell me what you need so that you can stay, then I will find a way to acquire it.” His gaze was heavy, his lips beginning to tremble. “Whatever it is, Anthony, I will find it, and I will get it for you. I promise, I can get you _anything_ you want.”

Anthony’s words were stuck in his throat, refusing to fall from his tongue as he stared at Loki in complete and utter _horror_.

Loki swallowed, the hope falling from his expression, and Anthony wanted to reach out but he felt frozen, _broken_ —

“Anthony… I… I know I don’t deserve you, but if there is anything I can do, just to spend another _day—_ ”

“Loki,” Anthony choked out. “ _Loki—_ ”

He still couldn’t find the words, so he reached out and pulled Loki toward him, tucking him into his chest, and holding him as tightly as he could. A whine pulled from Loki’s throat as he melted into Anthony’s embrace. The sound was hoarse and awful and it cut though Anthony like a heated blade through butter, burning every nerve and slicing his heart clean in two.

“What did I do?” Anthony whispered, his own voice cracking. “How… what did I do to make you think that you had to give me things to keep me with you?”

Loki shuddered, his whole body shaking now as he clung to Anthony like he was afraid he was going to disappear.

All this time Anthony thought that Loki had been fading away, and somehow, for some reason, Loki had thought the same.

“You didn’t,” Loki whispered, his words muffled in Anthony’s tunic. “You… you are _Anthony_ , and I am just me. It was only a matter of time before you realised it.”

And Anthony still didn’t quite get it, still felt like there was a piece he was missing. But he knew that it was well past time to make sure that Loki knew exactly how much he was loved–and this time, Anthony would ensure that Loki _listened_.

“Loki,” Anthony said, gently pushing at his love’s shoulders. “Loki, please, just look at me. Just for a moment.”

That did the trick, and even though the realisation of _why_ was another jolt of pain through Anthony’s chest, he could only be glad when Loki’s red-rimmed eyes finally met his own.

“I don’t know what I did, but whatever it was, I am sorry, okay? You should never have felt that way, and for all this time…” Anthony drew in a pained breath, remembering all the weeks and _months_ since Loki had passed him that first gift. He shifted his hands to cup Loki’s cheeks, stroking his trembling fingers over soft skin and hating the lines of tears– hating that he was the reason they were there. “Loki, I _love you,_ okay? The books, the trips, the tools– I never needed any of that. I just need _you_.”

He didn’t wait for denial– he pressed their mouths together and swallowed Loki’s whimpers, coaxing him into a kiss. Loki’s fingers gripped Anthony’s hair, tugging him closer, and their bodies fit just as they should. Just as Anthony knew they always _would_. 

When they parted, it was only to catch their breath, their foreheads resting together as neither wished to lose the closeness.

“Loki,” Anthony whispered, the name almost a prayer. “Loki, please. I need to know, so that… so that I can help you. I can’t see you hurting like that again.”

“Know what?” Loki asked.

“What happened. Please, Loki, I can’t…” Anthony let out a harsh breath. “Why did you think I would leave you?”

“Everyone in the realm knows that you are too good for me,” Loki said, though his voice was soft now, calm. “I was afraid that you had realised the same thing.”

“Never,” Anthony said immediately. “ _Never_ , okay? Do not listen to them, they don’t know a single thing. Do you love me, Loki?”

“Yes,” Loki promised immediately, without a single inch of hesitation. “Always.”

“And I love you.” Anthony said. “You didn’t need to try and do anything differently. I wouldn’t change a thing about you. Loki, you’re the best person I know, and the fact that no one else can see that is an insult to _them_ , not to you. If anything, you’re too good for _me_.”

“That’s not true,” Loki denied instantly, but Anthony cut off any other complaints with another kiss, utilising Loki’s own tactic against him. And hey, it was effective.

“You’re right,” he said when they parted a moment later. “I suppose we’re just perfect for each other. And why should we listen to the opinions of people who aren’t even as smart as us?”

That, like Anthony had hoped it would, managed to pry a soft laugh from Loki’s lips.

And oh, he knew that they had a long way to recover from this. The comments wouldn’t stop, the realm would keep trying to pull them apart. But maybe it was Anthony’s turn to prove to Loki that he was in it for the long haul, that he wasn’t going to ever let Loki go.

“Loki?” Anthony asked gently, lifting his head and tracing the line of Loki’s jaw with the tips of his fingers, smiling with the elation of a new idea. “Do you remember when we were on Alfheim, and we learned of that courting ritual?”

Loki seemed to freeze, staring at Anthony in anticipation and disbelief.

It wasn’t a permanent bond that Anthony spoke of– when Anthony asked Loki to marry him, it would be on the happiest of days, when the only reason for saying yes would be because they _wanted_ to, not with one thinking it was the only way for the other to stay. Rather, the ritual was intended for courtships, a manifestation of a promise that would allow them to _feel_ a bond. Something that Loki could reach out and touch– to remind him just how much they meant to each other.

“If you still want to give me a gift,” Anthony said, “then I would like it to be that.”

Loki’s eyes were shining with tears that gleamed with happiness now, and his own hand came to rest on Anthony’s cheek so that they were mirroring each other. “I would like that, too,” he whispered with a touch of wonder. “ _My_ Anthony.”

“Yours,” Anthony answered.

It was the easiest promise that he had ever made.


End file.
